


Promises that bound you

by Iwastemytimereading



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Violence, Promises, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, greek gods are real in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwastemytimereading/pseuds/Iwastemytimereading
Summary: 'And Pierre had known not to make a promise in the name of the gods above, not to make a promise that would tie his heart and soul for the future yet to come.'A Piarles fanfic based on this prompt: at age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need, you appear at her side. Problem is, you and that gf broke up after 3 weeks, but you still appear even now...10 years later.
Relationships: Esteban Ocon/Lance Stroll, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much to Laeana for giving me this prompt, cause it was loads of fun to write and i love Greek mythology, so i'll take any excuse to read/write anything related to it.  
> So yeah, hope you all enjoy it!

He doesn’t even remember how they have met; he only remembers the soft smiles and the laughter that had suddenly filled his life. He remembers the days and the evenings and the nights they spent together, their parents telling them to quiet down. He remembers Charles always being by his side, remembers how they always spent all their time together, be it at school or at their homes. It was something that came naturally to them after only a month of knowing each other, for Pierre to spend every minute with Charles.

And adults would look at them with knowing smiles on their faces and whisper to each other when Pierre had told them that they’d always be friends, always by each other’s sides. And Pierre had heard the whispers, as did Charles. They heard them say that they were only kids, that they would get tired of each other as the time would pass. And Charles would want to argue, wanted to say that he never could get tired of Pierre, but the Frenchman would just shake his head and pull his best friend’s hand, telling him that it wasn’t worth it, fighting with adults. They’d just smirk at them, tell them they’re too young to know what life is like, throw their opinions aside, not even wait for them to finish talking. And so it was better to ignore the words that were whispered behind their backs and just stay in their own world, until they were older, until they knew what the life that the adults talked about was truly like.

And the years have turned, and they always were there for each other, their free minutes filled with rapid-spoken French, with smiles, with some tears that Pierre had always promised Charles he’d wipe away. Their parents had let them dream, let them talk of the future like it was filled with gold, let them laugh and hug and get to know the love that surrounded them in life. They had always heard the stories, the stories of the gods that looked over them when they went to sleep, when they played under the bright sun and swam in the blue streams protected by the trees.

They heard of Apollo, the god that gave them warmth and light, they heard of Artemis, his sister, the one that gave them the bright moon to shelter them when the night just seemed too dark. They heard of Zeus, of course they had, the god that brought them thunder and the lighting and always had the eagle by his side. And they heard of Aphrodite, the goddess of love, of beauty, of pleasure and of passion. They had heard the way that the lovers had prayed to her, had worshipped her, begged her to hear the prayers that they said, had whispered and yelled in pain. And Pierre had known not to make a promise in the name of the gods above. Knew that promises like that, they were impossible to break, that if the gods had heard you they would never let you go, they’d force you to keep the promise that you’ve made, no matter what. And so, he always only spoke highly of the gods, careful, so very careful not to make a promise that would tie his heart and soul for the future yet to come.

He spent his time with Charles, as he always did, the years passing by in motions of memories that he knew he would forever keep. There was the time at 10 years old, when they fell in the mud after a storm had struck their town, their clothes were wet and covered in dirt, but they didn’t care, they were laughing, throwing mud at each other, not caring that the water was drenching them and they both had to lay in bed for a week after, because of a cold they both had caught. Then there was the time when they were 14 and had sneaked into their neighbor’s orchard, stealing the apples and hiding in the branches until their parents had called them to dinner.

Their memories were intertwined, never one without the other and their favorite thing to do had always been to sit on the roof and watch the stars. The roofs of their houses were close enough that Charles could always climb from his bedroom window to Pierre’s and he would open his window as well, letting the light pour out and illuminate the roof below it. They would then sit on the roof, look at the stars and wonder. About the future, about their lives, about the way they would turn out. They would talk about the life that the adults had talked about in whispers, concealing the future and the secrets behind hushed words.

Sitting on that roof had been something that was always something so familiar and a habit that they had meant to keep forever. Because it was a place that held so many memories for them. It was where Pierre had found Charles once, the younger knocking on his bedroom window during a hot summer night. He had had a nightmare, seemingly so real, so alive that he had to make sure that Pierre was still alright. And so Pierre had took him in his arms, sat down on the roof, his hand going through Charles’ hair, calming him and making sure that the other knew that he was there for him and that he was alright.

Pierre was there for Charles when his brothers were fighting, Arthur throwing things at the bedroom walls with Lorenzo yelling at him and Charles’ mind was a mess, not knowing how to silence the screams that were taking space inside his head. Pierre was always there for him; it was as simple as that. He was either sitting on the roof when Charles climbed next to him or sitting at his desk, trying to study, when he heard the knocking on the window and left his notebooks where they were, and joined Charles in star gazing and talking again and again.

And then there was the day when they were 15, Charles leaning on Pierre’s shoulder, singing quietly under his breath, his voice flowing through the night air. It was then, when Pierre’s arm was thrown around Charles’ shoulders, only the stars and moon above them, with Artemis looking down on them, that Pierre had realized that he was in love with his best friend. He loved him so deeply and knew it would break him if he were to ever lose him. And he decided, in that very moment, with Artemis and probably Aphrodite as their only witnesses, to do something that he knew he wouldn’t regret, no matter the outcome.

He hooked a finger under Charles’ chin, tiling his face towards him. He heard Charles’ breath hitch and the singing stop as he brought him even closer to him, the green in the blue of Charles’ eyes so intense and deep that he could feel his own breath wavering. But he then lowered himself, finally connecting Charles’ lips with his and felt the other gasp into his mouth, his fingers tangling in Pierre’s hair, tugging him closer and opening his mouth, inviting him. Pierre bit on his lower lip, dragging a soft whine out of the Monegasque as he pulled away slowly, his fingers drawing circles on the skin that peaked out from under the other’s t-shirt. He wrapped his arms around Charles, pulling him down until they were both lying on the roof, Charles’ face in the crook of Pierre neck and could hear him sigh contentedly. They laid there for what felt like hours, the stars and the moon shining above them, and Pierre tilted Charles towards him again, their eyes meeting and gazes softening. ‘Thank you.’ Pierre frowned as he pecked the Monegasque’s lips again, tasting the sweetness from the donuts that they had eaten barely an hour ago. ‘What for?’ Charles smiled as he traced Pierre’s cheekbones with his fingers, dragging his finger down his neck, stopping at the pulse point. ‘For always being there for me.’

Pierre knew that he had a smile on his face and love for Charles on his mind and his heart, and he didn’t think of the effect that his words would have. ‘I will always be there for you Charles, always. I swear, I swear on the witnesses of this night, I swear on Artemis, I swear on Aphrodite.’ He heard the shocked gasp come from the boy lying on his chest and as he looked at his eyes again, he could see bits of worry between the love. ‘Pierre… Pierre you can’t say that, what if They heard you?’ But Pierre only shook his head and pulled Charles into another deep kiss, the younger melting in his arms. He pulled away slightly breathless and leaned his forehead against the other’s, their breaths mixing. ‘I don’t care, I- I love you mon chéri.’ He saw the other smile happily as he buried his head in his neck, a slight blush rising up his neck. ‘I love you too’, the words were mumbled, but Pierre had heard them nevertheless and pressed a kiss to the top of Charles’ hair, wrapping his arms around his torso and feeling pure happiness just lying there, the moon still shining bright up above. He felt a slight gust of wind travel across his skin and as he looked at the sky he felt his heart squeeze a bit as he saw a shooting star fly over the night sky. He knew that shooting stars were supposed to bring luck and make good wishes come true, but he couldn’t help but feel worried a bit as well, for reasons unknown.

But as he felt Charles snuggle even closer to him, his lips landing on Pierre’s neck and placing a soft kiss there, he chased the worries away and only thought of the boy that he was holding in his arms, the boy he had just kissed, the boy that he loved, loved for so long and never could stop loving. He ignored the worries and only closed his eyes, treasuring the moment, storing it in his mind for the moments when life wouldn’t be so kind. For the moments when he would need reminders and the proof that Aphrodite truly did exist, and her love was shared in the hearts of people that he knew so well.

* * *

And he had kept that promise, kept it every day when Charles’ mind was not listening, when it was all over the place, not giving him time to concentrate. When days like that that would come, Pierre would wrap him in his arms, pressing kisses to his face and neck, trying to bring him back to the world where there was love and kindness, even if it felt like it was mixed with ounces of pain at times.

And there were days when Charles could do nothing but sit alone in his room, not speaking, couldn’t see anyone but be alone with his thoughts, trying not to let them get the better of him. And on days like those Pierre knew that even he couldn’t help, but it felt as if some power forced him to spend as much time as he could next to Charles, close to him, so that the second he felt better, Pierre was there for him again, his voice soft and his eyes kind, asking Charles if he was feeling at least a bit alright. And then Charles would nod and sink into Pierre’s lap, the other holding him close as they laid on a roof and watched the stars or just sat on his bed, not saying a word, just looking into each other’s eyes as if trying to read the other’s mind.

He was there, to kiss his tears away, to make him smile after the darkest days, he just tried to be, to help, to make him see the good in every day. He had kept that promise every single day, every minute, every hour, every day when things seemed bleak.

Until the day when it seemed like he couldn’t keep his promise anymore. Until the day when he felt like his heart broke in his chest. Until the day when his parents sat him down in their living room and told him that he’d been accepted into a school he didn’t even know about. His parents had said that it was the best for him, that schools like that only had the best. The best teacher, the best students, the best of the best. And yet it felt like the worst to Pierre. Because of the school that his parents had called ‘the best of the best’ was in Belgium. It was in Brussels, more than 12 hours away from Monaco, away from his parents, _away from Charles._ He knew that he couldn’t come back home every day, not every weekend, maybe not every month. His parents had said the school was difficult, it not only had programs with the theoretic parts of his studies, but it also had sports and it would take every minute of his spare time to study and to train. To stay the best. But it meant leaving this place, it meant leaving his friends, it meant leaving Charles.

And it meant breaking his promise.

* * *

He tried, he really did try not to let his tears show as he hugged Charles for what felt like the last time. He tried to ignore the feeling of his heart breaking in his chest but knew it would be impossible. Knew that the pain was not going to go away, not when he saw his heartbreak mirror in Charles’ eyes, when he saw how the younger was trying to hold back his own tears, to try and be strong for him. And it broke Pierre all over again. He knew that he couldn’t hold back the tears for long, not when he felt Charles pull away from the hug, his eyes casted downwards to hide the sadness.

And when Pierre kissed him for the last time, their kiss was salty, mixed with tears and heartbreak and Pierre… Pierre felt like someone was holding his heart, not letting him breathe, restraining him. He wanted nothing more than to stay there and keep on kissing Charles forever, but he couldn’t. And when the time came and he had to go and step on the train that would lead him so far away, he felt the tears fall from his eyes and on his shirt and he had to force himself not to look back, not to look at Charles and think of the promise that he was breaking.

As he was sitting on the train, his backpack by his legs, he looked up at the sky through the dusty train window, and all he could see were the clouds that were hiding the sun. In that moment he felt as if the gods that his parents had told him about, the gods that he worshipped and prayed to every night, he felt as if they were dead. They were supposed to be the ones watching over them, helping them get through in life, if they felt like you were deserving. And even though Pierre had felt as if the gods were gone, he couldn’t help but look at the scenery changing outside the glass window and his lips moved on their own accord and began to pray. He prayed to Apollo and Athena, to protect Charles, to keep him safe. He prayed to Zeus, to keep the storms mild, knowing that no matter the age, the Monegasque was terrified of them. And lastly, he prayed to Aphrodite. He prayed to her, with tears in his eyes and sadness on his tongue and prayed and begged to let him see Charles again, to let their love stay strong, to protect Charles’ heart from being broken again.

In that moment he knew, he knew how it was when men and women had prayed to the goddess, with nothing to lose, but with so much to gain, only begging to love again, _to see their love again._ They felt as if the heartbreak would kill them and in that moment Pierre understood. Understood the joy that came with the emotions and with love, but how much pain that brought along, it was a thing that no one ever told.

And how cruel was that, how cruel was fate. To be born because of love, to feel so much more alive every single time you looked into the eyes of the person that you loved, to have your heart skip a beat and soar every time you kissed. And then to have love be the thing that kills you in the end. And Pierre truly didn’t know if he would he choose any other way to die if it meant not ever loving Charles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii again! i don't know whether I've mentioned this in the first chapter or not, but in this story, Pierre lives in Monaco. He's not Monegasque, they just moved there when he was very little. That is all, you may proceed.

Days have passed, and then weeks and before Pierre had known it, a month flew by and he felt so tired, so exhausted, every day was spent in anticipation for the evening when he could finally lay down in his bed and sleep. And his everyday was filled with so many hours of work and endless training on top of studies and he could feel his body rebelling against it every morning when he woke up, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t allow himself to, really.

He couldn’t disappoint his parents, his professors, and himself. Even if at times it felt as if he had nothing to prove to himself, but he had to pass the term, had to get good, no, great grades. Had to do it all if he wanted to have a chance to get a job at the place that hired only ‘the best of the best’. And if he had managed to do it all, pass his years with excellent grades, push his body to the limit in the physical training focused programs, then he’d get to work with people that were deemed to be the best minds of their time. He was supposed to learn how to study and write about the gods above, how to serve them all in the way they’d appreciate the most. How to bring good blessings to his country, to be one of the servants on the earth that served the gods and make sense of their words for the mere mortals to understand.

But all the studies, and all the training and all the work had caused yet another barrier that Pierre had yet to overcome. Because at the speed that time flew by for him meant he had no time to think of Charles, of the boy he loved and had to leave behind. Had to leave behind all the hugs and kisses and gentle touches that he loved so much. All the nights spent on roofs lighted by the moon and stars. And all of that he had to leave behind to become…what?

A servant to the gods and try to make their wishes come true? Even if they could’ve just as well have done that by themselves? To become famous and achieve the glory that came with understanding the language of Zeus, Apollo and Aphrodite and all their brothers and sisters up on Olympus? All of that, the fame, the glory and the money, but the price to pay was greater than any god could ever dream. The price was for Pierre to stay alone. Working in the dark temples, writing day and night, living his life the way the gods commanded, being married to the one they deemed suitable for him. And Pierre hated it, detested all of it with every fiber of his being, wanting nothing more but to go back to Monaco, back to his friends and back to Charles, to the boy he loved so much.

And so, with no time to think and wonder about Charles during the day meant that the Monegasque began to hunt his dreams. And Pierre spent his nights tossing and turning in his bed, his mind full of the sad green-blue eyes, the flickers of yellow trying to hide the pain. And every night he remembered their last kiss, the salty touch of lips, with silent goodbyes in the air. And he tried to limit his sleep, tried to rest for only a few hours to avoid the sweet memories that his mind warped into nightmares. And almost every single night his dreams and nightmares were the same, full of Charles and his home, and almost every single morning Pierre woke up with tears in his eyes.

* * *

But then one night, his dreams had changed, and Pierre hadn’t known what was different, not at first. There was the sight of his house in his dreams, the moon shining bright on the evening sky as it did each night. There were the leaves rustling in the wind and everything seemed just like every other night’s dream. But then Pierre saw Charles appearing in his bedroom window, slowly opening it and climbing on the roof, and continued walking until he reached the window where Pierre once used to be, waiting for Charles to knock on his window and invite him out into the night. But not this time. No, this time Charles stopped when he reached Pierre’s window and sank down on the roof in front of it, hugging his knees with his hands and burying his head in them, tears flowing down his cheecks, the tears that Pierre wanted nothing more than to wipe away, that he had once promised to always wipe away. And then when Charles raised his head, his eyes falling on the moon, Pierre could see that the stars around the moon had started moving, started flying around the moon, forming an arrow in the sky. Pierre could only watch as the starry arrow started to fly, heading towards Charles and he was helpless to stop it. And then the starry arrow hit Charles in the chest, pushed him back against the roof with the sheer force of it. And Pierre didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to dream anymore, he wanted to wake up, in his bed, didn’t even care if there would be tears on his face again, he just wanted to wake up.

But his mind didn’t listen to him, it pushed him closer to the Charles in his dreams, the brunet lying on the roof with his arms and legs outstretched and eyes wide open as if in pain. Pierre didn’t want to look, but his dream kept going, starting to spiral out of control, and he could see the starry arrow with the colour of the rising moon. It was etched in Charles’ chest, right in his heart. Small little droplets of blood already starting to stain his white shirt.

And then he woke up. And there were tears on his face and sadness was once again on his mind and his heart hurt as if he was the one that had been shot with the starry arrow and not the Charles in his dream. And even though he was awake and glad to be, he still felt like something was off, something deep inside his heart, he couldn’t quite determine what, was telling him that everything was not alright. Something was telling him that somewhere, more than 12 hours away, Charles was alone and hurt and Pierre had promised to keep him safe. But he was at school. At a place where he was expected, no, needed to attend all of the lessons that he was enrolled in. There was no way he could just go and leave it all behind. But as those thoughts had travelled through his mind, every new thought that was against him leaving had cause his heart to squeeze in his chest and he tried to stop it, but he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.

And he tried to ignore it, tried to get dressed and ready for school as every other day, his mind still far away, still in the dream where Charles lay hurt on the roof illuminated by the moon. And his heart and mind stayed far away as he walked towards then bus station, the buses waiting to take the people away, who knows where. Pierre was not even looking around himself, was not looking at the sings of the final destinations that hung on the bus’s windows, he walked up through the doors, swiped his card at the driver’s side where the card scanner was and then walked down the bus, sinking into the soft seats and waited for the half hour drive that he took every day, to school and back. The music wafted from his phone and to his ears, filling his mind with music as the scenery of the city flew by and Pierre could feel his eyelids fluttering close as the music relaxed him, pulling him to a much-needed sleep. There were no dreams on his mind that time, only the music softly playing somewhere in the background and he was drifting at times, between sleep and consciousness.

And then as slowly as he fell asleep, he woke up, trying to beat the drowsiness from his still slightly closed eyes. He reached for his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, walking down the bus aisle, waving lazily to the bus driver and then the doors closed behind him and he finally really looked around himself. But he wasn’t at his school. He wasn’t in Brussels; he wasn’t even in Belgium anymore. He looked around himself, the road looked so foreign and yet so familiar. He was back in a place that he had left a month ago, but it felt like an eternity. A place that he knew he would forever connect with family and friends and the boy he loved that he had to leave behind.

He was in Monaco again.

* * *

Pierre’s mind was a mess and his thoughts in disarray. He knew he was supposed to be in his classes, making notes, listening to his professors talking about the way Apollo had contacted people in the past and where to spot him. He should be listening to the stories and myths of Delos and learning how to translate the prophesies of the Oracle of Delphi. He should be. And yet, he was here, in the place that he had left and didn’t know when he could come back. These were the streets he grew up on, running around, making friends, spending hours and hours with them. Spending so much time with Charles. He looked around, not really knowing what to expect. After all, he had been just driving for 12 hours, all of his classes were over already anyway, as well as his physical training. It was 7pm, the sun was still shining on the blue sky, but the day was slowly turning into the night and Pierre felt so lost on the streets that he once called home.

He started walking, he didn’t know where, he let his feet take him down the streets and around dark corners, past his old school and the green parks. He kept walking, and the watch on his wrist was ticking, the sky above him becoming darker and darker with each minute that passed. He came to a stop in front of a bar and almost laughed at the irony- the bar that he felt he’d find Charles in was called Buddha-bar, named after a person connected directly to the Buddhist religion. And Pierre had left Charles behind to study the gods that they believed in. He will truly never understand how fate could be so cruel and almost laughable at times. He shook his head as he looked around himself, the lights in the Monaco port already switching on, making the water glow with the bright colours, reflecting on the yachts that were tied there.

He ran a hand through his hair, he was still nervous, especially if he were to truly believe his heart and Charles was indeed only a few meters away from him at the moment. So close and yet so far. But he pulled the door opened, tried to push away his nerves and doubts, and the lights of the bar almost blinded him when he entered the room and he immediately felt underdressed. There were men and women around him dressed in tuxedos and glittery dresses and dress shirts. They were all wearing clothes that were more expensive than Pierre could even dream of. A waiter walked past him, carrying pink and blue and orange cocktails, the fruity and alcoholic scent of it almost making Pierre’s mind spin as he walked through the room, trying to find Charles. But it seemed as if the Monegasque was nowhere to be found. Either that, or he didn’t want to be found, but the thought of that made Pierre’s thoughts swirl, he didn’t want to even think about that. He had to hold himself back from asking people if they saw him but knew that it would be too much.

After he was in the bar for half an hour and decided to head back, he heard some noise coming from behind the back door. A mix of yelling and crying. And to Pierre those sobs sounded too familiar to just ignore them and leave the bar. He couldn’t. He walked over to the door, pushing it open, his nerves going wild, and what he saw broke his heart all over again.

Because Charles was standing in the dirty alley, his hair a mess and his knuckles bloody, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He was leaning against a wall, his head leaned back and his hands coming up every few moments to punch at the wooden door of the fire escape that led up the side of the building. And Pierre couldn’t move for a second or two, he could only stand there, frozen, because it was what he was afraid of when he left. He was so afraid that Charles’ mind would go wild, not having anything to hold onto, filling his thoughts with doubts and worries and self-blame that would only push Charles deeper into a hole of self-despair and Pierre wouldn’t be there to pull him out. And now his fears were coming to life except… except he was there, he could help Charles, he could honor his promise and maybe, just maybe, make it all alright again.

He took a few steps and could quickly detect that his friend reeked of alcohol, but not the fruity and sweet kind of cocktail alcohol that Pierre had smelled before. It smelled like the hard liquor that you could smell in the bars where people would drink to forget, to push their nightmares away. Charles had never been the one to drink, not excessively anyway. There was the occasional party of course, but he never went over the limit, always being careful. Pierre reached out, catching the Monegasque’s fist before the other could slam it against the wooden door again, damaging it even more. He tangled Charles’ fingers between his, calling the other’s name softly, trying to get him to look at him, but he seemed determined to look the other way.

He tried again, angling his chin towards him, more afraid than ever before ‘Charles, look at me, please, let me see your eyes’ and yet the other still looked away, shaking his head, tears starting to roll down his cheecks and he started whispering to himself, like he was trying to convince himself of something. ‘You’re not real, you’re not here. I don’t- I can’t do this anymore, go away, you’re not real, you’re not Pierre, not my Pierre.’ His words were starting to get mixed with sobs and he covered himself into the wall he was leaning against and Pierre was so lost and so broken, not knowing what to do.

He remembered all the times Charles’ mind wasn’t listening to him, how he’d show at Pierre’s window with tears-streaked cheecks. He remembered how he’d take him in his arms and try to make it all better. It was the only thing he knew how to do at times like these, so he did exactly that. He wrapped one hand around Charles’ shoulders and the other around his waist, pulling him flush against his own body, running one hand through his hair, whispering comforting words, trying to make him believe. Charles was still sobbing, his tears wetting Pierre’s shirt, but he didn’t care. ‘Charles, you have to listen to me please, listen to my voice, you have to believe me, I really am here. It really is me. Do you remember the time when you came to my room, the day before your geography test and you were nervous, but I told you it would be alright, and I made you hot chocolate and we fell asleep to the sounds of Queen blasting out of your phone? I remember that because I was there Charles, because it’s really and truly me. As well as the time at Arthur’s eight birthday party and you chased me around your backyard with water guns. And then Lorenzo pushed us both into the pool, our clothes all drenched. And it was one of the best days I’ve ever had. So I need you to open your eyes Charles, I need you to look at me, please mon chéri.’

He could feel Charles still in his arms, slowly moving his head from Pierre’s shoulder and looking up at him, his eyelids wet with tears and his eyes filled with sadness and flickers of hope. ‘Pierre?’ he could only nod, tangling his fingers even deeper into Charles’ hair and pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head. ‘It’s me, I’m here, I’m here for you, just like I promised.’ ‘But how, your school-’ Pierre just shook his head, he was still not clear on it all himself. ‘I don’t know, one moment I was stepping on the bus, waiting for it to take me to school and the next thing I knew I was here, the sun setting, and something guiding me here, towards you.’

The ‘I missed you’ was mumbled into Pierre’s neck but he still heard it, hugging Charles again, not wanting to let go, even if he knew that he’d have to go back, and soon. He’d have to go back to school, to hours of classes and trainings and not sleeping. Even if he didn’t want to ever let go of the boy in his arms, only wanting to keep on hugging him, standing by his side when the worst would come. Didn’t want to leave it all behind again, not when he just got it back.

* * *

Pierre knew, as he was sitting in his classroom a week after that, listening to his professor talking about all the ways that people had translated prophecies, he knew he’d always remember holding Charles again after being apart for so long. And he had no idea how he could see him again, his professors pressing on him even more after that day, claiming that he had skipped school on purpose. And Pierre knew that it would be pointless to even try and argue with them, tell them that the thing that had happened was beyond his understanding, how he felt it was connected to the dream he dreamt the night before it, but couldn’t quite figure out how the dream was connected to him seeing Charles.

But then it happened again. And again, and again, and Pierre began seeing a pattern that was starting to form. Just like the first time, he dreamt of Charles on the roof of his house, but when he cried his tears dropped on the ground and where the salty water touched the soil flowers grew. But not just any flowers, roses and myrtles, the flowers of Aphrodite. And in his dream, the flowers would shake, their petals flying off and towards the moon, and each petal that connected with the surface of it made it glow brighter than Pierre had ever seen it before. And when the moon glowed it showered the face of the Charles in his dreams with a light, making his tears and eyes shine in silver, turning him into an iron statue with one hand reaching towards the moon. Pierre woke up, sweaty and the visons of Charles frozen like that on the roof still on his mind.

But then they went to a museum later that day, Pierre, his schoolmates and professors, they all had to. They had to spend the day there, trying to decipher the meaning behind the paintings from the ancient Greece and all the writing hanging from the walls. It was there that it happened. Pierre was almost running around the museum, trying to find a piece that he could understand, that he could write about, when he tripped and fell on the floor. And when he looked up, trying to find the reason for his fall, the cruelty of irony was in front of him again. Because he tripped on Charles’ leg. Charles made him fall. In more ways than one, in more ways than the Monegasque would ever know.

As Pierre tried to gather himself, he saw that Charles was sitting on the floor, a notebook in his lap and a pencil in his hand, trying to draw a statue. A statue whose hand was seemingly outreached towards the sky. A statue that Charles had turned into in Pierre’s dreams. And Pierre couldn’t hold back anymore and threw himself forwards, tugging Charles into a hug and savouring the moment. And when he finally let go, he looked at Charles, truly looked at him. He could see that the other had bags under his eyes and his nails were bitten almost to the skin. His friends’ eyes portrayed sadness and loneliness again and Pierre knew that his eyes mirrored the feelings caught in those green blues. And on the paper in Charles’ lap there were torn pieces, there wasn’t a drawing, only lines that seemed to have been drawn in anger.

And so he sat there, Charles leaning against his side and drawing lazy patterns across the sheet of paper, trying to catch the beauty of the sculpture in front of them while Pierre tried to figure out the meaning behind it, tried to get inside the mind of the artist that had made it, to figure out his dreams, his ambitions, his plans and fears. He tried to put it all together, even when it seemed like nothing made sense. He jotted a few notes down in his notebook, looking at Charles every now and then, as if he needed to make sure that he was still there, that it wasn’t all just a dream. And when Charles said, ‘I’d much rather be drawing you’, Pierre inhaled sharply, his heart skipping a beat inside his chest, and he was sure that Charles had to have felt it as well, only he didn’t show it, or was too afraid too. Too afraid to go through it all again, through all the pain. The pain of separation, of soft goodbyes, the pain of last kisses, and the pain of not knowing when you’d see the other again. Pierre knew it was the kind of pain that broke you, knew it because he felt it every day when he laid down to sleep and woke up in tears. And he’d give anything not to have felt that pain again, to stay with Charles.

* * *

The next time it had happened, Pierre’s dream was almost happy, in a way, or at least at first. It began the same way it always did, with Charles on the roof and looking at the moon. But then something changed. Charles went inside his room and brought out a bow and a silver arrow with a heart-shaped point. He aimed for the stars near the moon and shot the arrow, and when it hit the stars, they burst into little sparkles of light, Charles in the midst of it all. And where the sparkles touched his skin they burned for a moment but then turned into rose petals tattoos, up and down Charles’ arms, drawing designs that were more beautiful that Pierre had seen in any museum or art book.

And in his dream, Charles was smiling, his eyes closed, but Pierre still didn’t miss the single tear that slipped down his cheeck. And he thought it was good, he thought it was a happy dream, but then he saw a pair of yellow eyes getting closer from where they were hiding in the bushes. The moon that was still shining high on the sky was reflecting itself on the wolf’s fur, making it glitter and shine in the dark. Charles didn’t see the creature of the night, he only laid down on the roof, one of his arms dangling off the side of it and Pierre wanted to scream, wanted to warn him, wanted to do anything to save him. But he couldn’t. It was a dream, and he had no power in a dream, no way to fix it, no way to help. He could only watch as the wolf got closer and closer to Charles and raised its paw, the claws ripping at the Monegasque’s skin, but Charles didn’t even flinch, didn’t cry out or scream in pain. Pierre tried to get closer, tried to find out what was going on and then he saw it. Saw the little trickle of blood that began forming in the corner of Charles’ mouth, slowly dripping down his chin and arm, turning the rose petals blood red and soaking the wolf’s fur.

Charles’ mouth turned from a smile to a thin line. As if trying to hide the pain and his eyes flew open, there was anger in them, but also surrender and pain. And Pierre, he wanted so badly to help him but didn’t know how, he couldn’t. And then he woke up, remembering the wolf’s yellow eyes and the rose petal tattoos.

He didn’t know what to do. Because on days when he had dreams like these, it had meant that something was wrong with Charles. But he didn’t know how to reach him, how to meet up with him. there were no museum field trips that day, no buses that could be mixed up, there was nothing. Only the promise that he had made to his parents, telling them he’d meet with them that evening in a restaurant near his school to celebrate his mom’s birthday. But there was still the whole day of studies to get through before it, and Pierre really didn't want to listen to yet another 7 hours of his professor talking about Artemis and her huntresses. It only got worse once the class had started and they were given books explaining the meaning of wolves and their connection to the moon goddess. And considering the fact that the wolf from Pierre's dream was still fresh on his mind, he spent the whole lesson in not only boredom, but also worry for Charles. It went on and on and Pierre couldn’t get out of the building fast enough, running towards the climbing course that was built on the side of the school. He hated the physical training sometimes, but on days like these he couldn’t wait to climb and run, to make his mind think of something else than Charles, to distract himself.

And once his training was over he went back to the apartment he shared with two of his schoolmates and started getting ready for dinner with his parents. He didn’t feel like celebrating, even if he knew how unfair it was to his mom and how it wasn’t her fault that he had a dream about Charles. It didn’t make him worry any less though. And he didn’t want to overdo his outfit, only putting on some ripped jeans and pairing it with a white shirt, tying up his sneakers and taking his jacket as he left the flat, locking the door.

He was walking towards the restaurant, nervous about seeing his parents after so long, when he heard yelling coming from an alley. His curiosity got the best of him as he looked around the corner, seeing a boy around his age towering over someone else, the other person kneeling on the floor, covering his face with his hands and it was only then that Pierre had truly heard the person’s voice. The ‘leave me alone, please!’ was cried out into the dirty air of the alley, making Pierre freeze on the spot for a second and then spring forwards, catching the taller person’s hand and spinning him around, punching him as the guy yelped in surprise. He was lying on the floor, but only for a second and he got back up soon, coming face to face with Pierre, his brown eyes flashing with anger, ‘Who the fuck do you think you are? Get the hell away or I’ll make you.’ Pierre knew he didn’t look like much, but after three years of training at the college and years of training before that had prepared him for a lot. So he simply punched the guy again, slamming him against the brick wall, his head making a dull sound as it hit against it. He could see fear slipping in the person’s eyes, replacing the anger.

Pierre’s eyes slipped a bit, and he could see the tattoo that was taking place on the guy’s upper arm, a tattoo of a constellation. Pierre had studied stars long enough to know it by heart, it was the Canis Major constellation, with the brightest star Sirius, the star of the dog. He raised his eyes back up, looking at the assaulter again, and he could feel anger building up inside him as their eyes locked. ‘Leave. Don’t come back and leave him the fuck alone.’ As soon as he let go, the person slid down the wall and ran away, with only a glance thrown over his shoulder. Pierre kneeled down, softly caressing the side of Charles’ face, making his eyelids flutter slowly. Charles opened his mouth and wanted to say something but winced in pain as a bead of blood dropped down his chin, and Pierre could feel the fear creeping up, his dream coming to life again in front of him.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a tissue and gently dabbing at the blood, wiping it away along with the tears that were still flowing down Charles’ face. Once the other had seemed to gather his thoughts at least a bit, he looked up at Pierre, but he started talking before the Monegasque could. ‘What are you doing here?’, the other looked down, as if in shame, shaking his head slightly. ‘I- that guy that you saw, he invited me and my friends to a party nearby. We agreed to go but after it was over he wanted payment. I couldn’t, he wanted to- Pierre, I was so stupid’ he could only take him in his arms again, gently shushing him, trying to calm him down. ‘You weren’t stupid Charles, never think that. You wanted to have fun, wanted to hang out with friends, it’s only human, really. You couldn’t have known that the guy was an asshole.’ He could hear Charles chuckle softly and finally allowed a smile to cross his face.

For once, things seemed to be getting ok, they seemed to be getting better. As he pulled Charles to his feet, he thought that maybe, _just maybe,_ he could have it all. They walked together towards the restaurant, Pierre knew his parents were waiting, but he couldn’t just leave Charles there, not in that state. They were at the door already and Pierre wanted to pull it open, when he heard someone call his name, and he turned around. To his surprise he saw his school’s counsellor worker making his way towards them and he knew there was curiosity on his face, it was a Friday evening, what was she doing at the restaurant that was usually reserved for students. Once she came to stand at his side she nodded at him and acted as if Charles wasn’t even there. ‘Mr. Gasly, I need to speak with you. Do you have a minute?’ Pierre bit his lip; he knew that his parents must have been getting worried. ‘Well, I- it’s my mother’s birthday today, so I thought that we could…’ ‘excellent, I’ll be quick then.’ Pierre had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, especially when the counsellor threw a dirty look at Charles ‘Could we talk alone?’. He could see Charles raise his eyebrows, but he walked to the side, nevertheless, still keeping a watchful eye on Pierre.

‘So, tell me Mr. Gasly, how much do you know about Mr. Ocon?’ Pierre looked at her in confusion, why would they want to know about Esteban? The two of them never had gotten along well. ‘I know that he is in the same grade as me, studying to become a translator for Hephaestus and Hermes, but that’s about it really.’ The woman nodded; her hands clasped together. ‘He is also one of the few students who have come even close to matching your intelligence level. You are both exceeding in your classes, we think you would work well together.’ Pierre was still not clear on what she was implying, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. ‘The end of your education is approaching, and fast. After that, you know the plan, don’t you Mr. Gasly?’ he nodded; it was all planned out for him before he even started his education at the Academy of the Gods. Get a job, preferably at Delos, but before that, there was the part of the plan that he was dreading and tried not to think about. The marriage. But he chased the thought out of his mind, tried to focus on the woman standing before him. ‘Well then. I came to inform that we have not only found your workplace that suits your abilities, but also something else, with which you will be able to finish your education here at ATG.’ Pierre swallowed dryly and quickly looked over his shoulder at Charles who sent him a nervous but supportive smile.

‘So what is so amazing that you came all the way over here to tell me about and that will allow me to finish my year so swimmingly?’ an almost evil grin painted itself on the face of the counsellor as she looked up at Pierre.

‘You will be working at Delos with Esteban Ocon. You will also be living together. As husbands.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we go, it's finally done, the third chapter of this greek thingy

The words were echoing in his head. _Husbands_. He was to marry the boy he didn’t know, didn’t get along with, a boy he didn’t love. He always knew that the day would come, that he’d have to marry someone that he could never truly love. But he didn’t expect it to happen so soon, he hoped he’d have some time to get to know the other person, to at least like them, even if only as friends. He knew not to be as hopeful as to think that he could fall in love with the person that was assigned to him, things didn’t work that way.

He was just standing there, frozen, even after the school counsellor had walked away, even though he knew he should enter the restaurant, his parents were probably getting more impatient and worried by the minute. But he couldn’t. People were bumping into him, murmuring under their breaths, pushing him out of the way, but he couldn’t move. Until he felt a hand on his shoulder and soft fingers on his chin, making him look up and into Charles’ eyes, seeing concern swimming in them. He tried to paint a smile on his face, but knew he way failing, especially when Charles took him to the side of the stairs and sat him down, an arm around his shoulders. ‘Talk to me. What’s going on?’ Pierre didn’t even know where to start, everything muddled together. ‘I… I don’t know. That woman, that was my school counsellor.’ Charles grinned, ‘Oh the one that called you Mr Gasly? Where did my small innocent Pierre disappear to?’ but Pierre couldn’t find it in himself to smile, even if he could tell that Charles was trying, trying so hard to be the positive one, trying to make him smile. And Pierre knew that he had to tell him, couldn’t keep him in the dark, he knew that Charles would find out sooner or later.

‘I- I’m getting married in two months. To Esteban Ocon. That was what my school counsellor was here for.’ before he could continue, Charles’ arm slipped from his shoulder and he got up, staring down at Pierre with anger. ‘Tell me Pierre, what were you thinking, truly. Were you just walking down the street one day, all happy, and then suddenly, _enter Esteban_? What the fuck Pierre? I- Who is Esteban?' Pierre looked up, he couldn’t understand why Charles was acting the way he was, didn’t he see that this wasn’t what he wanted? ‘He’s a schoolmate of mine, but Charles, you have to believe me, I-' ‘Believe you what? That you were going to tell me? When? On the wedding day, after the honeymoon? Was this the plan all along? Meeting with me every year and leaving again, only to end it all with marrying Esteban? Is that how it was supposed to go? Cause I have to say Pierre, I expected a lot from you, but not this. Never this.’ Pierre had gotten up by then, knew there was anger in his eyes as well by that point. He was standing there, feeling like the whole world was collapsing around him, his thoughts going crazy, the future the furthest thing on his mind. The most important thing was the person standing in front of him, but he couldn’t even seem to make that work, couldn’t speak, not with the fury that he could see in the other’s eyes. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t even talk normally, 'What the fuck Charles, do you think I want that? To marry him, to live with him, to pretend to love him till death do us part?' Charles looked at him, lips tight, arms crossed 'I don’t know Pierre, do you?'

Pierre wanted to answer him, he truly did, but couldn’t. Because he didn’t understand, couldn’t understand how Charles couldn’t see how much Pierre loved him, only him. Not Esteban, not any other person that his school would set him up with, only Charles, it had always been Charles. He tried to reach out, tried to hold his hand, but Charles only shook him off, tears gathering in his eyes as he looked up at Pierre again, ‘Goodbye Pierre, I hope you and Esteban will be very happy together.’ And then he looked up at the rising moon, shook his head and walked off, leaving Pierre standing on the stairs, in the middle of so many people, but feeling so alone.

* * *

After that, there were more than a few things that he just couldn’t remember, his memories only murky shadows in his mind. He remembers a hand reaching for him and pulling him up, into a hug. Remembers questions, so many questions, why he was there, where were his friends, what happened. The last question being asked the most often. Remembers his parents taking him back to his apartment and trying to console him, to figure out what was going on. He spoke, he told them, told them everything, but without emotions, only with words, no tears, no smiles, no nothing. Only cold words. He remembers his parents saying goodbye, telling him they’d be at their hotel if he needed them, that they were only a call away. After that, was there anything, really? He knows he fell asleep, his dreams worse than ever before. There was no moon, no stars, only Charles walking away from him, the memory repeating itself again and again. And no matter how much Pierre yelled or how loud he screamed his name, Charles didn’t turn around. And then the morning came, bringing with it the relief of being awake. But was it really a relief, being awake? He knew he had to face it, the fact that the nightmare was a reality, that Charles had truly left.

He rolled over on his side, blinking a few times as he saw two people sitting on the bed opposite his. The two people that he had least expected at the moment, the people that he thought he’d have to avoid for two months. Esteban and Lance. No one really knew what was going on between them, not really. People knew they were friends, best friends, but were they something more? They were always together, hands always touching, but nobody knew the whole truth. Pierre wasn’t sure either, or at least he wasn’t sure until that moment. Because when he saw Lance leaning on Esteban’s shoulder, the other’s arms around him and whispering quietly into his ear, he was pretty clear about what was going on between them. They probably haven’t seen him waking up, he doubted they’d be so open if they knew that he was awake. He yawned loudly, alerting the other two and then opened his eyes again, seeing Esteban and Lance on opposite sides of the bed, cheecks flushed, but their eyes displayed worry. Or, at least Lance’s did, he wasn’t so sure about Esteban.

Lance spoke first ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘Like shit? Honestly, I- that was the last thing I was expecting to be told on a Friday evening.’ He saw Lance nodding and Esteban biting his nails and then looking at him. ‘So?’ ‘So what?’ ‘So, what’s the plan? How are we gonna get out of this whole thing, cause I surely don’t wanna be married to you any more than you want to be married to me. Or am I wrong?’ and there it was again, why he and Esteban could never get along. ‘No, this is the one time, when you’re, surprisingly, right. Didn’t think I’d ever see that happen, but here we are.’ ‘I didn’t think anyone would ever even think of marrying us, couldn’t they see that your idiocy would be dragging down my IQ?’ ‘Alright, enough.’ It was probably a good thing that Lance cut in when he did. ‘Could we maybe focus on the matter on hand? You know, your marriage, remember?’ they both nodded, but really, what could they do? It was one of the school’s oldest rules, you can’t refuse the marriage that is selected to you. They were taught that gods themselves had come up with it, even if Pierre was a bit doubtful of that. What were they supposed to do, sit around and do nothing for two months? Hope and pray for a miracle? He couldn’t think of anything, his mind was still with Charles, something in him believing he’d come back, however impossible that seemed to be.

They’d meet up; Lance, Esteban and Pierre, they’d meet up every day, going through all the books they could find, reading the laws spoken by the gods, looking for loopholes, anything that could get them out of the future they didn’t want to be stuck with. Even if every day was a failure, they didn’t stop, the end of the year was approaching fast, they had to do something, but they couldn’t find a solution. Each day in the library only brought tiredness and anger, anger at the school and their professors for forcing them into things they didn’t want, into a future that they should be allowed to decide for themselves. Until one day, the library brought understanding and connection. Not answers, but something akin to friendship, maybe.

They were sitting at the long benches, books on the table in front of them, stacked one on top of another, every book they could find. It was getting late, they knew that, but they couldn’t stop, besides, the library was open 24 hours, they weren’t breaking any rules. Pierre was reading a book focusing on the Greek marriage laws throughout history, even if Esteban said it was a waste of time. The clock was ticking, it was almost midnight already, all of them were tired, the amount of their physical trainings as well as theoretical studies were almost doubled, preparing them for their jobs, as the professors liked to say. Pierre knew he was tired, but he couldn’t stop, he had to find something, had to find a solution. He could see that both Esteban and Lance were tired as well, the latter even more so, drifting between sleep and being awake, they could all see it. After a few minutes Esteban pulled Lance down, his head falling on the other’s lap, finally falling asleep while Esteban continued with the research, going through the books and his hand occasionally running through Lance’s hair, smoothing it down and messing it up again. They knew they’d have to go to sleep soon, but Pierre felt like he needed to ask.

‘Are you two…’ Esteban’s head shot up from where he was leaning it on his hand, his cheeks coloring crimson, ‘I- we’ve never established anything, there’s just, I don’t know, moments I guess. When I really want to be with him, and only him. And I want him near me, all the time, and I feel like he feels the same, but what if he doesn’t?’ Pierre looked at him with an unimpressed look on his face ‘He’s literally sleeping in your lap right now.’ ‘Yeah but… I don’t know. I just want us to get done with this marriage thing, I really don’t wanna marry you, no offense.’ Pierre just shook his head, turning yet another page of the book ‘The feeling’s mutual, believe me. But, do you wanna marry him?’ He tried to keep in his laugh as Esteban choked on air, his hand stopping in Lance’s hair, glancing around and avoiding Pierre’s gaze. ‘Maybe someday, I just know I- I love him, but it’s not that easy.’ His words were whispered, but Pierre still heard them. ‘What about you? Anyone you have that you want to spend the future with if we get out of this?’ Pierre shook his head sadly, careful not to let the tears fall ‘Not anymore.’

* * *

The days flew by, the routine repeating. Mornings and afternoons spent at school and evenings spent at the library, trying, hoping beyond hope, that they’d find a way out. But with each day, the future was closer, and the solution not found. With each day they lost more hope, the hope that they had so much of when they started looking for a way to live their future their way.

And before they knew it, they were being ushered into a temple, all three of them. Esteban and Lance into one room that was in a building behind the temple, and Pierre into another, their gowns set in front of them, the rooms empty, save for a mirror and a chair. He didn’t know what to do, he was filled with hopelessness, he didn’t want to marry Esteban, but he didn’t have a choice. Even as he was getting dressed his heart still ached, calling to the boy that had gone back to Monaco, to the boy that left Pierre this time. He knew he was supposed to be angry at Charles, he didn’t give him time to explain, but he couldn’t. he could never get angry at Charles, no matter what. He could still remember his smile and his laugh. He remembered his eyes, the way they used to crinkle up when he was really happy and how they looked when he was sad, how the tears glistened and how Pierre always made them disappear. How he had promised to. He remembered his voice, the voice that used to sing at night under the moon and talk to Pierre, in whispers and in screams, the way he used to call his name. Pierre could still hear it, Charles calling his name, as if the voice was real. Until… until he heard knocking on a door as well along with that voice, a whisper, but loud at the same time, breaking through Pierre’s thoughts and waking him up from his daydreams and wonders. Walking towards the door he tried to calm his beating heart, telling himself not to get his hopes up, not to dream of paradise and wonders again.

He hoped that the person on the other side of the door wouldn’t hear the deep breath that he took before gathering the courage to open it, not daring to open his eyes immediately. Not until he heard the soft whisper of ‘Pierre’ was it when he opened his eyes and the boy that he had the luck of knowing and loving for so long, was standing in front of him again. There were tears in his eyes, he was biting his lips, but there was a smile tugging at them. Before he knew it, Charles was in his arms, his head in the crook of his neck and tears slowly falling from his eyes, but he could feel him smile still.

He was happy, he was so happy to see him, but it wasn’t that easy, nothing ever was. And after all, how did he even get there? And why? ‘What- what are you doing here? I thought I’d never see you again.’ Charles shook his head, regret in his eyes ‘I’m so sorry, I should’ve given you time to explain, I know but I couldn’t help it, I was too angry, too mad to even comprehend it all. You were getting married to a person I didn’t even know; I had no idea how I was supposed to react to that. What? Smile and say I was happy for you? My mind couldn’t get behind that. But then something changed. Yesterday. I had a dream.’ He looked up at Pierre, this time with hope but with doubt as well. ‘What did you dream?’ ‘I dreamt of you. Of you and him. Standing together beneath a silver moon, but there was something missing. Something in your eyes. The way you looked at him, it was empty, void of love. And I now the way your eyes look when you look at someone that you love. I know because… because that’s the way you used to look at me. The way that you still look at me.’ _Oh._ Now he knew where the hope in Charles’ eyes was from. And it only increased when he looked into Pierre’s eyes again, the smile on his face only getting bigger when he spoke again. And Pierre couldn’t hold back the tears anymore as he listened to the voice that he had missed so much. Charles’ words cutting deep into his heart.

‘And I’ve missed you. Fuck, I’ve missed you so much. I wished that I could hold you in my hands again, feel your heartbeat under my fingertips and see your bright eyes shining. I want to hug you and to kiss you and to tell you just how much I love you. That I’ve loved you ever since we’ve met, that your eyes had been my lighthouse when I was lost at sea full of darkness and despair. I want to tell you that every time I saw you smile I wanted to kiss your lips, to smile just as wide as you always did. I want to thank you for always being there, when I wanted to give up, when I couldn’t see the end of the nightmares chasing me. And somehow you were always there to wake me up from the dreams that were darker than the nights. And you were always there to wipe my tears away, to make me smile, to make me feel so safe when I was wrapped in your arms time and time again. And I’ve loved you all that time. For all your help, your smiles and your love. For being there for me when I needed you the most. ’ He turned Pierre’s face towards him, tears still shining in those crystal blues. ‘Let me be there for you for once. Let me help you now.’ He couldn’t do anything, nothing but reach out and tug Charles towards him again, tugging him into a kiss, their eyes meeting as well as their lips. And he could feel himself sinking in the feeling that he had missed so much, the feeling that he thought he’d never get to feel again. He could feel Charles melting against him, tongues meeting and teeth clashing, and they were falling in love all over again.

It was only when they broke apart to breathe, did the reality crash down on them again. Only an hour left. An hour left until their futures would be sealed and there was nothing they could do about it. Nothing but hope. Hope and pray for a miracle that seemed impossible. Charles was the first one to speak ‘He doesn’t want it either, does he? Esteban?’ Pierre shook his head ‘No, he doesn’t. How did you know?’ ‘I uhm, I kind of saw him and another fluffy haired guy making out in the other house when I was looking for you.’ Pierre chuckled and pecked Charles’ lips again, trying to chase away the thoughts of the marriage.

But nevertheless, the minutes ticked by and before they knew it a man appeared before their door, leading them towards the temple, decorated classily Greek. The large pillars with engravings on them and white flowers hanging from the top. But Pierre didn’t see anything, he couldn’t. His fingers were tangled around Charles’ and he felt like his heart was about to break as he had to let him go sit in the pew next to Lance, Pierre continuing his way up the aisle, towards Esteban whose face was grim, no hope left in his eyes, only sadness and anger. He stood in front of him as a priest dressed in white robes stood and started, his words were spoken out loud, but Pierre didn’t hear him. He heard him say the words ‘Hera and Zeus’ and the names of the other gods, praising their powers as they always did. Empty promises and empty praises. His eyes soared over the crowd gathered in the church, stopping at two women for a moment more. One was dressed in a long silver dress, the other in red with starlight in her hair. They were unfamiliar, yet their eyes… Pierre felt like he’d seen them somewhere before. But it didn’t matter. They couldn’t help him. No one could. He heard the priest, ‘if anyone has a reason as for why they should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.’ He wanted to speak up, wanted to scream, but couldn’t, wasn’t allowed to. And just when he thought the priest was going to continue, he heard it, the two voices, voices that sounded like they had magic woven in them.

‘We do.’

All heads whipped around to the two women that were standing up, walking down the aisle, stopping in front of Pierre and Esteban, looking at the people gathered around, their eyes wide and no one could speak, as if someone had charmed them not to, forbidden them. The woman in silver spoke first, her voice strong and yet a tone of softness still present in it. ‘They cannot get married. It would be a crime.’ The woman in red took over then, her voice even softer and her eyes beautiful, looking like beauty personified, her eyes green and blue with flickers of yellow. ‘It would be a crime because this man right here’ she pointed at Pierre, ‘had made a promise. A promise before the gods, promised to take care of and be there for his love’. Pierre could feel his breath catch in his throat as he looked at the two women, fear mixing with worry and amazement in his veins. ‘How- how do you know that?’ the woman smiled at him, brushing his cheek as she sought out Charles with her eyes. ‘Oh darling, I just do, because I’m the one that made your wishes and promises come true.’ ‘You-‘ ‘Yes.’

The woman in the silver robes spoke again, her voice cutting like ice through the crowd. ‘And now you will all listen because you have done more crimes than you know, more crimes than you will ever admit to and it’s about time that you realize how many hearts you’ve all broken and how many souls you’ve sent to the underworld, well before their time.’ The woman in red, the woman that Pierre now knew who she was, knew where he knew her from, knew her history and her eyes. It was a woman he had prayed to every night. A woman he was taught to respect. Aphrodite. The goddess of love. And the other woman, the woman in silver, with eyes like a wolf’s sometimes, her robes the colour of the moon, was Artemis, the goddess of the moon and hunt. The goddesses that were supposed to help them and keep them safe, but he never did believe that, not until that very moment. He hoped for it but believing… believing was another thing entirely.

But then Aphrodite’s voice cut through the crowd again, echoing off the temple walls, the voice so cold in its midst. ‘You call yourself the translators and messengers of Gods. You say that you understand what they want and how they work. That you can read their minds and see the way they think of love and sacrifice. And yet you force marriage onto two people that do not love each other.’

Artemis stepped forwards, speaking up ‘You tell your students, these children, that they should serve the sun and be afraid of it, when really, they should aim for the stars. They should be allowed to dream, and to love and to get to know everything and everyone there is. And yet you put a limit to it, you put a limit to their minds, you lock them in dark rooms, and you throw away the key, thinking, hoping, wishing, they won't find a way to break free.’

‘You teach them to live and love by the rules, to only do as they are told, to only listen and obey and never speak back. You take away parts of them that you deem unworthy, you make them ashamed of themselves, you make them scared and yet force them to act fearless in the face of the unknown future.’ Aphrodite was speaking again, her words burning themselves deep into Pierre’s mind, he was trying to comprehend it, trying to get through all of it, and then Artemis spoke again.

‘And you never notice their sadness and their love for the forbidden which they must hide. You never notice their tears and fears and the rare smiles. You never notice how tired they are, collapsing under the pressure and the rules you make them abide. You notice nothing. Nothing but the mistakes they make. Mistakes are always seen, always noticed, no matter what. And always punished. Never forgiven. Not by you. Because according to you, the gods never forgive and never forget.’

Pierre felt tears in his eyes as Aphrodite was finishing off her speech, her words filled with softness yet again. ‘But you are wrong. So very wrong. We can feel love and we can see it; we can see the smiles that are shown only during the nights. We see it all, it's true. But that does not mean that we do not forgive or love any less than we did before. Because it's human to make mistakes. And it's human to feel. And it's human to love.

The temple was silent, no one dared to speak, all the professors and the parents, all were silent. Pierre didn’t know, didn’t know what to say or what to do. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Esteban stepping down the stairs, walking towards the pews, stopping in front of Lance and extending his hand towards the other man, inhaling deeply. ‘You heard them. It’s human to love, I’m a human. And I love you. Do you-’ before he could say another word Lance stood up and threw himself on Esteban, kissing him deeply, whispers of ‘I love you’ mixed in between. Pierre saw Aphrodite smiling and Artemis smirking as they looked at them, but then their eyes turned icy again as they saw the teachers glaring with hate at Esteban and Lance, the couple now in a soft embrace, without a care in the world.

The doors of the temple suddenly banged open as ten people walked in, their eyes giving off a glint of something not quite human, not completely. Pierre turned to Aphrodite again, he was still frozen on the spot, not knowing what to do, how to act, how does one act in front of gods? ‘These people, these men and woman, they will teach you from now on. They have served us and worked with us and for us for decades, and they have changed, have been given a blessing. They are demigods, trained and taught by us. Demigods and your new professors. Lewis, Nico, Sebastian, Toto, Jenson, Claire, Susie, Mika, Fernando and Hulk. Trained in both mind and body. The best of the best.’ Artemis took over again ‘As for your ex-professors, they are to face a punishment, a punishment for their actions, for their crimes.’ With that they were gone. The temple was empty except for Pierre and Charles, eyes locked and smiles on their faces.

He no longer had to hold himself back, didn’t have to worry about the future or about the gods, about his professors or dreams that looked like they could kill. Didn’t have to worry about loosing Charles or failing his parents or himself. The future was his to take. And as Charles’ lips landed on his again, both of them smiling into the kiss, dreaming of a future made of kisses and love, he knew that all those years ago on the roof lighted by the moon and stars, he made the right decision.

He made the right promise, the promise that bound him to the person that he loved and would never again have to leave behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this, leave a kudos or a comment if you liked it, im also on tumblr as iwastemytimereading1, come and say hi if you wanna


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